Page 53 of Embers of Fate
I don’t know why I’m doing this, why I’m going along with his insanity. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it, the blood rushing in my ears like a roaring tide.
As we reach the doorway, my breath catches in my throat, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I think I might faint, or throw up, or both.
“Sam?” Vlad’s voice cuts through the haze, his tone laden with concern as he rises from the couch. “Are you unwell?”
But then his eyes land on Nik, and his expression morphs into one of pure, unadulterated fury. Gavriil must have told him about what happened, about the forbidden bond between Nik and me—but Vlad, sweet, kind Vlad, would never bring it up, not if it meant causing me pain.
The silence stretches, heavy and oppressive, until Gavriil finally looks up, his gaze drawn by the tension in the room. And when he sees Nik standing there, his face flushes with rage, his features hardening into a mask of barely contained violence.
“What are you doing here?” he roars, surging to his feet and crossing the room in three long strides, until he’s standing toe-to-toe with Nik, their faces mere inches apart.
But Nik doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. He meets Gavriil’s glare head-on, his resolve unwavering in the face of my brother’s wrath. “I’d like to speak with you,” he says, his voice calm and even, betraying none of the turmoil that must be raging inside him—if there is any.
Gavriil starts, his eyes widening in surprise, as if he’s just realized something. He growls, a sound of pure frustration, and heaves a sigh that seems to come from the very depths of his soul. “Given recentevents, I fear I’m forced to hear whatever you have to say,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
And then he does something that leaves me speechless, something I never thought I’d see in a million years.
Gavriil, the mighty Ursa King, steps aside, allowing Nik to enter the parlor.
I stand there in the hallway, my mind reeling, my wrist aching from the force of my own grip. What is happening? What could Nik possibly have to say that would make Gavriil listen, that would earn him an audience with the man who hates him more than anyone else in the world?
“Sam,” Nik says, his voice cutting through the chaos of my thoughts. “You should come too.”
I blink, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But somehow, I manage to nod, my feet carrying me into the room as if of their own accord.
Gavriil drags the sofa in front of the fireplace, his movements sharp and angry, while Vlad pulls an armchair up beside him. And then there’s just the couch left, the only spot big enough for two.
For Nik and me.
We sit, the heat of his body seeping into mine, and I feel like I’m going to combust, like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces from the sheer intensity of the moment.
“Your brother stepped down as head of the family, I hear,” Gavriil begins, his voice deceptively calm, a silken threat hidden beneath the veneer of civility.
“He did,” Nik confirms, his posture relaxed, his demeanor unruffled. I envy his composure, the way he seems to take everything in stride, even as my nerves are stretched tight as a bowstring.
“A smart choice,” Gavriil says, a hint of grudging respect in his tone. “Bram’s not cut out for it. Never will be.” He pauses, fiddling with his cufflinks in a gesture that’s as much a power play as it is a nervous tic. “And will you do a better job at it, I wonder?”
Nik’s lips curve in the ghost of a smile, his eyes glinting with a newfound confidence that sends a shiver down my spine. “I’ll try,” he says simply, and in that moment, I believe him. I believe that he’ll move heaven and earth to be the leader his people need, to bring honor and glory back to the Draken name.
Vlad’s gaze darts between Nik and me, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern. But he says nothing, deferring to Gavriil’s authority as always. In the end, the crown trumps all.
“Have you come here to threaten me?” Gavriil asks bluntly, cutting through the pretense and the posturing to get to the heart of the matter.
“No,” Nik replies, his voice quiet but firm. “I came here to settle our grudges once and for all.”
My brothers exchange a look of surprise and amusement, their eyebrows climbing towards their hairlines in perfect unison.
“Huh,” Vlad says, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Indeed, you are naïve.”
But Nik just leans forward, steepling his fingers in a gesture of calm deliberation. “I will put a stop to any violence from my clan to yours,” he declares, his words ringing with the weight of a vow. “And I assure you, any disruptions to my law will be severely punished.”
Gavriil shoots him a look of pure incredulity, his eyes narrowing to slits. “You’llburnthem, perhaps?” he asks, his tone as dry as the Sahara.
“Maybe,” Nik concedes, matching my brother’s sarcasm with a cool nonchalance that makes my heart swell with pride. “Can I expect the same assurance from you, Ursa King?”
Gavriil raises his chin, studying Nik with a new intensity, a begrudging fascination that borders on respect. And I sit there, my mind whirling, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in the room, the way the tide seems to be turning before my very eyes.
Why am I even here?I wonder, my presence feeling more and more superfluous by the second. This is politics, the dance of power and alliances that I’ve never been a part of, never had a say in.
